Skiing weather keeps Cairngorm resort open into June for first time in 18 years, while sun seekers crowd coasts

Those hoping the bank holiday would bring Britain a Mediterranean atmosphere may have been disappointed, but one part of the UK did have an exotic holiday flavour: albeit of an Alpine variety.

The ski slopes of Cairn Gorm saw more than 7.3cm (3in) of snow at the weekend. Combined with clear skies and sun it made perfect skiing weather and prompted a decision to keep the resort open into June for the first time in 18 years.

More than 100 skiers were out at Cairngorm Mountain resort, which has seen 144,200 skiers take to its slopes so far this year. It has been an excellent year for all of Scotland’s ski resorts.

Jonathan Gatenby, of Aviemore Business Association, said: “It’s huge. We’ve seen 20% business growth in tourism.”

Elsewhere too, the sunshine broke through the clouds and forecasters said that warmer weather would return later this week. And the lack of blistering conditions didn’t put people off making trips to the coast.

Resorts had a second crowded day, followed by the customary crawl home, with long queues at traffic bottlenecks such as the Britannia bridge from Anglesey to the mainland.

Rebecca Sherwin, a forecaster at the Meteorological Office, said: “The official starting date for summer is 21 June but we’re certainly going to be seeing some summer weather before then. Temperatures will reach the mid-20s by the middle of the week, after some rain on Tuesday, and we’ll be seeing warmer weather than normal by the end of the week.”

The exceptional high temperatures reached last Monday, topping at 28.8C at Heathrow airport, are unlikely and Sherwin said that June overall looked like being a “mixed bag”.

Though recent riots in Thailand may have perturbed many travelers from visiting the country the Tourism Authority of Thailand's (TAT) governor, Sawasdee Krub, has played down the issue and expressed that visitors are still very welcome to the country. With a wide range of flights to Thailand being assessable from locations across the British Isles the TAT added that the incidents occurred in limited pockets of the country and that there was no reason for travel to one of the world's most popular destinations to be negatively affected.

Most of Thailand's significant tourist destinations such as Bangkok and Phuket along with the beach locations popular with backpackers were not involved in the rioting that resulted in the deaths of Thai militants. Writing an open letter to the public Mr Krub said that the TAT had, over the past 50 years, managed to make the country one of the most popular destinations of the world. Expressing that the violence had not affected Thailand's core appeals such as its beautiful scenery, rich culture and the huge hospitality of the Thai nationals, he added that though the media spotlight may have worried some tourists the country remained a safe haven for tourists.

Flying out from a number of airports across the country Thailand remains easily and simply accessible, with a range of class options available. With individuals able to continue enjoying the delights of the eastern country and travel there through economy, Eva airway's premium economy or Qatar's business class, Thailand looks set to remain ever popular despite the recent violence.

Cheap Flights and Travel News – © 2010 – Just The Flight

With the summer months just around the corner both those in Pamplona and around the world will be preparing for one of Spain’s most notorious festivals. Whilst proving highly controversial in the modern day over the welfare of the animals used the San Fermin, or Pamplona bull running festival, remains a traditional Spanish festival that attracts thousands of tourists every year.

With a large number of flights direct to Pamplona from the UK including those offered by Iberia, quick travel to the city is easy. Flying directly from London Heathrow individuals can fly out for this extraordinary festival which begins on the 6th July and lasts a week, or choose to incorporate the festivities into a wider Spanish holiday. Starting in the city square of Pamplona thousands of people await the mayor’s official announcement of the festivities before a number of bulls are released into the streets with those involved looking to outrun the beasts without being hurt. Beginning as long ago as the 13th century the tradition has become host to a larger spectacular of dancing, music and wider celebrations than simply the bull running, allowing tourists to enjoy the Spanish culture and immerse themselves in a week of excitement.

With Spain remaining an ever popular destination for tourists many combine such events with a longer holiday, taking advantage of cheaper flights to Madrid before traveling to Pamplona. But remember to get their early, with bull runs beginning at 8am each day of the festival, an early alarm call will be needed to ensure a good and safe view.

Cheap Flights and Travel News – © 2010 – Just The Flight

Sun, sea and sugar-fine sand – Venezuela’s little-known Los Roques are the stuff of holiday legend. And it’s all thanks to a presidential snub by Hugo Chávez

Thank God for Hugo Chávez, president of Venezuela. Laugh at him showboating at the UN about the evils of America, sending impoverished Londoners cheap fuel for their buses, telling off his fattie compañeros for eating too much. But love him for his little idiosyncratic ways, because they are keeping safe one of the Caribbean’s best-kept secrets.

Three years ago he took his weekly Aló Presidente TV roadshow to Los Roques, an archipelago a half hour’s flight from Caracas. The live show has no script. Chávez just talks, and sometimes sings, about whatever comes into his head. He makes up gags, insults and nuclear defence policy. Venezuelans joke that he must have a bucket under the desk because he will talk for hours without a break.

Los Roqueños didn’t give him the chance. Twenty minutes in they started pelting him with tomatoes. Chávez pulled the plug and stropped off, telling the ingrate locals the islands would be getting nada in way of government help for their impertinence. And certainly no cash for attracting tourists. So that’s why the islands have fallen off the tourist map.

Caracas airport did nothing to dispel the gnawing sensation that my girlfriend and I weren’t going to find our way to Los Roques. It was a holiday weekend and there was chaos in the terminal. The whole of Venezuela seemed to be on the move, most of them trying to check in flatscreen TVs the size of a multiplex.

The departure board bore witness to a Venezuelan diaspora – there were flights to Miami and Houston, Moscow and Havana. But there was no sign of a flight to Los Roques. Finally we discovered a tiny doughnut concession/airline desk tucked away in a corner of the terminal, surrounded by a crowd of shouting Venezuelans: check-in. I found the crush oddly reassuring. It meant safety – it meant a biggish plane, not the deadly single-engined Caracas-Los Roques hoppers I’d been warned about since booking the holiday.

Two dozen of us were bussed out beyond the new Airbus 320s, ageing Boeing 737s and terrifyingly doddery DC9s, to a tired but sturdy turbo-prop. After 30 minutes a necklace of islands appeared in the dark-blue water. Specks of sand and shrub, ringed by turquoise lagoons. There was no sign of an airstrip, but the plane banked sharply and fell steeply towards the sea. We skimmed a few metres over the masts of a couple of yachts and dropped on to the tarmac on the island of Gran Roque, the archipelago’s big smoke.

We were confronted on the ground by the full force of Chávez’s police state – a dozing sniffer dog which only raised an eyelid when one arriving tourist tore open a packet of crisps.

A man appeared with a trolley and took us to our posada (a small guesthouse) nearby. Minutes later we were stripped of our luggage and stripped of our clothes, down to our cossies. Then we were put on a speedboat, taken to a desert island and abandoned. Castaways. Nothing but us, a huge stretch of empty beach of the softest, whitest sand and a blue, blue sea. And the sun canopy, chairs and cool box our guesthouse had kindly provided as our desert island luxury.

Holiday hell at Caracas airport had been turned into tourist heaven in two hours. We laid out towels on our seats, sat down, surveyed the scene for a few minutes, did a few oohs and aahs at our good luck and then looked at each other and whispered: “What the hell are we going to do now?”

Carolyn pretended to read her book. I splashed around in the water. Then we dived into our cool box, pulling out drinks, crisps and sandwiches like excited children on a school trip.

I went for another swim while Carolyn fell asleep. And then we looked at the empty beach again and perfect sea and looked at each other. We weren’t going to be picked up by the boat and returned to our posada for another four hours. We whispered: “What the hell are we going to do now?”

Then we looked at the empty beach and perfect sea again. And finally we got it. The speedboat came back on time, but far too early…

We didn’t see another British person all week. Los Roques only really registers on the tourist radar in one country outside Venezuela. Italians discovered the islands a couple of decades ago and bought houses in Gran Roque. Some were turned into posadas and more Italians came. Now there are a couple of dozen posadas to be found on the fishing village’s unmade, sandy streets of brightly coloured buildings, almost all run by Italians.

We were staying at Posada Albacora, with three guest rooms and a roof terrace where we ate fantastic island food with an Italian flavour: zucchini carpaccio, marinated barracuda and a mango mousse. From below came the sounds of Caribbean street life. Our meal was punctuated by power cuts; a late-night wander to find a mojito was conducted by torchlight.

Each day we had our choice of islands to explore. Our favourite was Crasqui, which was only 20 minutes or so from Gran Roque. We didn’t have it to ourselves but that was part of the fun. We got to see the Venezuelans at play. It was the perfect place to witness three Venezuelan obsessions: booze, BlackBerrys and boob jobs.

Spoilt over the years by the riches from its oil reserves, until recently Venezuelans were the kings of bling. Giant American cars, from 1970s red Corvettes to brand-new black SUVs, rumbled through the streets of a country where filling up the tank costs little more than the price of a beer. But Chávez’s policies have started to squeeze the middle-classes, putting a dampener on their party and making them more than a little resentful.

Take telephone salesman Enrico, our neighbour one day on the beach at Crasqui. Our small cool box was full of food, water and the occasional beer. Enrico’s giant cool box was full of ice. And bottles of Scotch. It was barely 10am and Enrico, splendid in his leopard-spot Speedos, was guzzling from a half-pint mug of ice and whisky. He boasted that Venezuela was the third biggest consumer of Scotch in the world and said his bottle had cost nearly $100 – I didn’t recognise the brand, but that didn’t stop me accepting his generosity.

Then he wandered off down the beach, to send an urgent email. A couple of days later, I saw him with a table of friends in Gran Roque. They weren’t saying a word to each other; each was furiously stabbing away at their BlackBerrys, only stopping occasionally to rip a few lobsters apart.

Enrico introduced me to his girlfriend and explained just what he’d spent on her breasts. It seemed rude not to look impressed. He pointed down the beach and explained how all Venezuelan women have had plastic surgery – even if some can only afford one breast at a time. Even the shop mannequins on the island were surgically enhanced.

On the beaches, men took pictures of their girlfriends and wives. Completely unselfconscious, the women rolled in the sand and the surf, striking porn-star poses.

Enrico cussed when I mentioned Chávez. “He’s ruining our lives,” he cried. “All the money’s going to his cronies now.” I don’t think El Presidente can count on the Los Roques vote quite yet.

How to get there

A seven-night holiday to Los Roques and Caracas with Journey Latin America (+44 (0)20 8747 8315) starts at £1,677, including flights from London, airport transfers in Caracas, flights to Los Roques and B&B.

There are plenty of discounts and special offers for Greece this summer, making it more affordable than it’s been in ages

Milos

Spend a week in the Aegean sea, paddling a kayak around the rugged island of Milos, known as the “island of colours” for the varying tones of its volcanic rock. Based at a guesthouse with whitewashed walls, pine furniture and tiled floors, guests will join Rod Fledtman, a qualified British Canoe Union kayaking coach, on six expeditions around the island’s coastline. As you hug the shore, you’ll visit places such as Tria Pigadia, a secluded beach with a natural spring, paddle into one of the island’s largest caves and perhaps cross to Little Arcadia, a few kilometres offshore.
• Eight nights for £485pp (20% off all summer) based on two sharing, including continental breakfast and packed lunch, through Tourdust (020-3291 2907)

Corfu

In the more sophisticated north of the island of Corfu, the Rou Estate is a restored group of 200-year-old houses with a shared pool, gym and Asian-style spa. Guests stay in cottages sleeping four or six dotted through the grounds. All have modern white kitchens and stylish furnishings, some have plunge pools, and a local supermarket will deliver.
• Offer of seven nights for the price of four takes the cost to £860pp, including flights and car hire, departing 9 August (or leave on 23 August for £825pp) with CV Travel (020-7401 1010)

Paxos

High above the picturesque village of Lakka, on the northern tip of Paxos, south of Corfu, sits Villa Begonia, sleeping up to five and overlooking the bay below. The village, which has Venetian-style architecture, is a 20-minute walk down the hill. Or for a less secluded experience, Villa Avra (sleeping four) is a new detached house set among olive trees, overlooking Lakka’s bay, and within easy reach of the village’s shops, tavernas and two beaches – one pebbled, one sandy.
• A 50% discount takes the cost of a week at Villa Begonia to £495pp (departing 7 June) including flights and private ferry transfers. Seven nights at Villa Avra costs £395pp (departing 12 July), all through Planos Holidays (01373 814200)

Rhodes

Lindos, a small hillside town with no cars, only donkeys, and a warren of alleyways, is the sleepy location of Melenos Lindos, a beautiful boutique hotel built over four terraces, featuring fountains, bougainvillea, padded stone benches and painted ceilings. Bedrooms have gorgeous linens, antiques, large wooden platform beds, Uzbeki wall-hangings and private terraces. The rooftop restaurant is shielded by Moorish awnings and strung with paper lanterns for romantic meals looking out to sea.
• Seven nights (for the price of five) in a double room between 1 August and 15 September costs from £1,325, including breakfast but not flights, through i-escape.com

Kefalonia

Avithos is a rural, secluded region of southern Kefalonia, its quiet pathways and citrus groves making it ideal for walkers and birdwatchers. Nikassi villa, sleeping four and set in its own garden with pool, faces due south out to sea, with views across the cliffs towards Zakynthos or along the coast to Avithos bay, with the tiny island of Dias just visible. The villa is a short (but steep) walk from the long, sandy beach of Megalipetra, directly below.
• Throughout the summer, a week’s stay costs £485pp (30% off) based on four sharing, including car hire through Meon Villas (0800 783 1410)

Crete

Above the broad harbour of Souda in western Crete sits the hilltop village of Aptera, near the ruins of an ancient city of the same name. Villa Amalia stands on the hillside below Aptera, claiming spectacular views of the bay and the peninsula of Akrotiri. This modern villa sleeps eight and has a built-in barbecue, table tennis, shaded dining area, garden and large pool with separate children’s section. Kalami, Kalyves and Chania town are a short drive away.
• A week costs £575pp (£200 off the total price) on selected summer dates, including car hire, through Meon Villas (0800 783 1410)

Lefkas

For anyone who felt inspired by Mamma Mia!, a new Dance & Movement workshop has been set up on the Ionian island of Lefkas. As well as an introduction to Greek dancing, guests will have the chance to learn contemporary moves and smouldering salsa steps (plus take tutorials on the more subtle and gentle movements of tai chi).
• A week costs from £549pp based on two sharing, including flights from Gatwick (departing 13 or 20 June), transfers, room-only hotel accommodation and the Dance & Movement activity programme, through Healthy Options (0844 499 2909)

Skiathos

Sklithri is one of many quiet, sandy beaches on the wooded island of Skiathos, in the Sporades islands of the northern Aegean. Villa Bougainvillea sits on a hillside above the beach, with beautiful views of the sea and the forested hills. Sleeping six across two bedrooms and a self-contained studio apartment, it has a large swimming pool, shady terrace and barbecue. Sandy beaches and good tavernas are five minutes’ drive away.
• Seven nights costs £579pp, including flights from Gatwick (departing 11 June), taxi transfers and welcome pack, through Islands of Greece (0845 675 2600)

Hotpot, jellied eels and, yes, chicken tikka masala – food writer Simon Majumdar spent a year seeking out our culinary treasures. He reveals where to find the best

At the end of 2009 I finished a journey that had taken me to nearly every corner of Britain. My aim was to meet as many as possible of the people who grow, prepare and sell the food we eat, to construct the perfect “Best of British” menu.

Along the way I met farmers, chefs, butchers, brewers, cheesemakers, distillers, restaurant owners, hunters and fishermen who all took time from their busy schedules to briefly share their lives and food with me. It was a journey that was filled with privileged experiences: I sipped on whisky costing £10,000 a bottle and supped exquisite tea from delicate china cups at Brown’s Hotel in London’s Mayfair.

It was also a journey blighted with occasional sadness as I witnessed the seemingly terminal decline of some of our most traditional foods. Love them or loathe them, London’s pie and mash shops and jellied eel stalls will probably be little more than a memory in less than a generation’s time.

Despite this, I returned from my adventure convinced that British food is very much on the up. There were still some experiences that gave cause for grave concern (hang your head in shame, the people who thought that chicken tikka lasagne could ever be a good idea), but we also have a great deal to be proud of and a great many people working hard to bring good food to our tables against tough odds.

It may be a while before some of our European friends give British cuisine more than a disdainful glance, but I remain convinced that we will get there. I don’t recommend that you try to eat anywhere near as much as I did in a year, and will certainly not pay your medical bills if you do.

The Midlands

Staffordshire oatcakes
A true regional British treasure, the oatcake, or “oat flannel” as it is sometimes called, fuelled generations of workers in the Potteries. Quite different from its crisp Scottish cousin, the Staffordshire oatcake is more like a dense pancake made from batter containing three types of flour and, of course, oats. As the ceramics factories have disappeared, so too have the bakeries that provided their workers with this sustaining breakfast. However, there remain a dozen or so producers, and between them they still produce 350,000 oatcakes a year, nearly all eaten within the boundaries of Stoke-on-Trent. At the Oatcake Kitchen, former ceramics worker Chris Bates expertly griddles up to 1,000 oatcakes a day. If you think your hunger is up to it, try one the local way, stuffed with cheese. Eat in, or take away as the workers would have done as they rushed to the factory. Delicious.
The Oatcake Kitchen, 8-10 Carlisle Street, Dresden, Stoke-on-Trent

Melton Mowbray pork pies
If I were stranded on a desert island, my dreams would be of Melton Mowbray pork pies. The hand-raised, hot-water pastry, the fresh, seasoned pork and the jelly from trotters make the most perfect combination. In 2009 the Melton Mowbray Pork Pie Association (MMPA) finally attained European PGI (protected geographical indication) status after more than a decade of trying. The name and recipe are now protected and that is a very good thing indeed. If you want to see the fine art of hand-raising a pork pie for yourself, head to Dickinson & Morris in the town centre. It is one of the oldest pie shops, and gives demonstrations.
Dickinson & Morris: Ye Olde Pork Pie Shoppe, 10 Nottingham Street, Melton Mowbray (01664 482068)

Fish and chips
Like so much of the best of British food, fish and chips is a product of immigration. Portuguese-Jewish refugees brought their skills in the fish-frying department, and collided with their Belgian and French counterparts who knew a thing or three about frying potatoes. The dish was one of the few not to be rationed during the second world war, so detrimental would it have been to the nation’s morale. I tried examples in dozens of places, but my favourite was to be found in the unlikely surroundings of a Birmingham shopping centre. Great British Eatery was created in 2007 by two Brummies, Conrad Brunton and Andrew Insley. They fry their fish and chips in beef dripping, and the smell as you walk through the door of their takeaway goes a long way to explaining why the place is a huge hit. Chefs from local Michelin-starred restaurants Purnell’s and Simpsons can often be found joining the locals for a late-night fix of some of the very best fish and chips in Britain.
Great British Eatery, 13 Broadway Plaza, Five Ways, Birmingham (0121-456 5955)

Northern England

Lancashire hotpot
Few sights are more appealing than that of a hotpot being taken from the oven, its meaty lamb juices bubbling through the golden potato crust. Yet so few people have actually tried a real one. It is a slow-cooked remnant of hard-working times, and deserves to be treasured, particularly when made as well as it is by a terrific young chef, Warrick Dodds of Hastings in Lytham St Annes, a lively modern bistro that uses the very best suppliers in the north-west. Order it with a side dish of pickled red cabbage and a pint of local ale, and follow it with an Eccles cake.
Hastings, 26 Hastings Place, Lytham St Annes, Lancashire, (01253 732400)

London

Jellied eels
People either love them or loathe them. Unfortunately for the few remaining jellied eel stalls in London, the latter seems far more common. This is a great shame because eels, cooked with water, salt and lots of parsley, then set in the gelatine they have released, are surprisingly delicious. Tubby Isaacs‘ family has been selling eels on Goulston Street, near Petticoat Lane in London’s East End, since 1919. This is the perfect place to learn the art of jellied eel-eating from the increasingly elderly customers who pop by for their daily bowl. First you douse them with chilli vinegar, then you slurp the jelly and meat as loudly as possible before discarding the bones on the pavement. You may not like them as much as I do, but you’ll be sampling a piece of history that will be all but gone in a generation.
Tubby Isaacs, Goulston Street, London E1 (07846 848813)

Potted shrimps
Brown shrimps with clarified butter and a hit of mace have been a staple of British cuisine since the late Victorian era. Nowhere is this made with more care than at London’s oldest restaurant, Rules, in Covent Garden. The shrimp are sautéed then set in butter and lobster oil, and served with just a wedge of lemon and a slice of brown toast.
Rules, 35 Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, London WC2 (020-7836 5314)

Scotland

Arbroath Smokies
Arbroath smokies are cleaned and brined haddock that have been hot-smoked over oak chips until their skin is golden and the flesh beautifully white. Iain R Spink and his mobile smoking set-up are a regular sight at the farmers’ markets of Fife, and well worth seeking out for one of the finest tastes of my whole trip. The markets are held on Saturdays, rotating between Kirkcaldy, St Andrews, Dunfermline and Cupar. It is well worth getting there early to see Iain and his crew at work, and to buy a hot smokie straight from the fire, with its juices still bubbling under the skin.

Haggis
The haggis by veteran Edinburgh butchers George Bower in Stockbridge are made with the whole “pluck” – lamb’s heart, lung and liver – simmered in game stock and then minced twice with fresh onions, pinhead oatmeal and spices. The offally end result may not be to everyone’s taste, but there is no doubting that it is the real deal.
George Bower, 75 Raeburn Place, Edinburgh (0131 332 3469)

Chicken tikka masala
Ali Ahmed Aslam, owner of the Shish Mahal curry house in Glasgow, has a strong claim to be the inventor of chicken tikka masala. He created the dish in the mid-70s using a tin of tomato soup to make a spicy gravy when a customer complained that his meal was dry. The rest, as they say, is history. So much so that, in 2009, Glasgow applied for protected status and to have the dish renamed the Glasgow Tikka Masala. That may be a rather silly notion, but a sizzling bowl of tender spiced chicken, cooked in the tandoor then coated with a fiery, tomato-based sauce, is a British treasure. Ali Aslam and his two sons can still be found at the Shish Mahal, carrying plates of their most famous dish to hungry Glaswegians.
Shish Mahal, 60-68 Park Road, Glasgow G4 (0141-334 7899)

Northern Ireland

The Ulster Fry
The great British breakfast can be a thing of beauty, but is all too often a plate of stodge floating in grease. Not so at Georgian House in Comber, south of Belfast. Unassuming chef Peter McKonkey has three decades of experience in Ireland’s best kitchens and now offers one of the best “frys” in the country. The whopping plateful includes organic eggs, dense meaty sausages, thick smoked bacon, local black pudding, tomatoes, mushrooms and – just to make sure you wobble out the door – the best soda bread and potato farls I have ever tasted. At the time of writing, that all came to £5.95 with a large pot of tea. Peter told me the locals find that “a little dear”. Bless.
Georgian House, 14A Newtownards Road, Comber (028 9187 1818)

Yellowman sweets
A treat for sweet-toothed Belfast boys and girls for generations, yellowman was originally created by one Peggy Devlin and sold at the Ould Lammas Fair in Ballycastle. As the name suggests, it is a lurid yellow candy made from caramelised sugar frothed with bicarbonate of soda and allowed to set before being broken into jagged shards. The best-known source for yellowman is now Aunt Sandra’s candy shop in Belfast. David, the nephew of the original owner, still makes most of the sweets the shop sells, and gives regular demonstrations.
Aunt Sandra’s, 60 Castlereagh Road, Belfast (028 9073 2868)

Wales

Faggots and peas
They may not have the most appealing name (it comes from the Welsh for “little bundle”) or be made from the most tempting ingredients, but these cricket ball-sized parcels of minced pork lung, liver and belly wrapped in bacon or caul (the lining of the stomach) are deeply delicious. NS James family butchers has made award-winning versions since the shop first opened in 1959. Local restaurants such as the Beaufort Arms have them on their specials menu, but I think there is no better way of eating them than straight from the butcher’s oven as a takeaway, doused with vinegar and a hit of white pepper.
NS James & Sons, Crown Square, Raglan, Monmouthshire (01291 690675)

Welsh cakes
The chance to join Pat Maddocks as she prepared a batch of 1,000 Welsh cakes in the small kitchen of her Gower home allowed me to relive a slice of my childhood. The smell and taste of her flat, fruit-laden griddled cakes (like small scones to look at but more delicious), taken hot from the stove and spread thickly with butter, transported me back to the days when my own grandmother would prepare them as a treat. Pat and her husband, Anthony, have recently opened a small tearoom where you can sample Wales’s finest baked goods, including cakes made with a shot of Penderyn Welsh whisky.
Cakes From Wales, 64 Southgate Road, Swansea (01792 233447)

Not everyone will warm to this idiosyncratic hotel – but those who do will find it difficult to leave

The hotel sign might as well have said Middle-earth, considering our lengthy negotiations with steep, hedge-locked Devonshire lanes of near-suffocating narrowness. Crossing the lawn (nice tennis court, fab folly) and pushing open the door, I find myself in the bar and instantly feel as though I’ve slipped into a friend’s house. “Double measures are standard” reads a sign. The dinner menu is propped up alongside a bowl of crisps.

Almost everything bears the patina of age, and not a little wear and tear, but the effect, aided by Classic FM, is a profound and enveloping sense of calm.

Richard Johnston and his wife, Sheila, created Fingals 30 years ago. It’s an ancient, added-on-to farmhouse in a secret valley near the river Dart. Sheila, clad in skinny jeans and boots, appears from an office tucked behind the bar and leads me through the panelled, flagstoned sitting room, once the farmhouse kitchen, upstairs and along a sloping landing to my room overlooking (and overlooked by) the terraced garden.

Slightly tired decor, bathroom has seen better days, but towels are good, teas in a nice box, and I love the feel of the place. No need to dress up for dinner, says the guest info, “but it is fun if you do.” Breakfast continues “until everyone has appeared”, and due to the “Great European Common Nanny State . . . Your under-15s – who might be having sex, smoking dope or hitching around the world on their own – are not allowed in my pool without an adult present.”

Pre-dinner. Lolling by the fire on a fat sofa, I’m joined by (in succession), a cat, a dog and the author of the swimming pool rant. The hotel is an assortment of 11 rooms – some very large, with kitchen facilities; the folly just for two – with sauna, gym and games room. A loyal clientele comes with (or without) kids, year after year.

He and Sheila are off at the crack for a short break, says Richard. Some friends are staying tonight, though; will I join them at the large table they use for sociable solos and new alliances? Yes, please. Other guests gravitate to the fireside, from where I can see into at least two rooms in which tables are laid for dinner. Briefly leaving the chatter, I undertake a proper exploration and discover a library and off this – such a good idea – a proper TV room. Over dinner (a retro “medley” of lemon sole and brill with orange butter and parsley with big dishes of veg), Richard reveals that my room has a horsehair-and-something mattress out of a house owned by Johnnie Walker. When I go up, the room temp is distinctly Scottish, and as for the grim old mattress, pity it didn’t stay north of the border.

After an indoor swim and a lazy breakfast in the sunny, panelled dining room, I pack but cannot leave. The circuit in my car key is kaput. I’m stuck until the spare is delivered – I need another night here. This time, manager Rosie puts me in a warm room, with modern bathroom and fantastic bed.

So now I’m in a quandary. Fingals is like a much-loved teddy bear that is a bit bashed-up with age. Regulars clearly love its idiosyncrasy, but newcomers will be less forgiving. Cold rooms (it wasn’t just me; another guest said she switched for the same reason) are not OK. Hair-shirt mattress? Not in 2010. Overlooked windows with only curtains, ditto. And £30 for dinner is steep. You know what, though? I still fell in love with the place.

• Coombe, Dittisham (01803 722398, fingals.co.uk). Doubles from £140 per night B&B (summer, weekend rate; less midweek and out of season).
sally.shalam@guardian.co.uk

What to do in the area, by the locals

Top eats

The Anchorstone Cafe in Dittisham overlooks the river Dart across from Agatha Christie’s gardens at Greenway (see below). Enjoy a Caesar salad piled high with fat local scallops and wash it down with a glass of rosé, or choose from a Dartmouth crab salad, squid with aïoli, or Start Bay fish and fat chips. Buy buckets and crab lines to catch “Dit’sum” crabs off the pontoon or hire boats and learn to sail. Three generations of one family run this fabulous, relaxed spot.
01803 722365.
Gina Ford works at Coombe Farm Studios and Gallery, Dittisham (coombefarm studios.com), which runs painting courses throughout the year

Head to Riverford Farm in Buckfastleigh for the full “field to plate” experience. See how the organic veg (available in box deliveries in London and the West Country) is grown on a farm tour before enjoying a feast of a lunch in the award-winning Field Kitchen restaurant.
01803 762059, riverford.co.uk.
Sheila Johnston runs Fingals with her husband, Richard

The Vineyard Cafe at Sharpham offers alfresco eating on a small scale, with views over the river Dart. If it’s busy, be prepared to wait because all food is cooked to order. The menu is refreshingly small and celebrates the best of local, organic produce.
01803 732178, thevineyardcafe.co.uk. SJ

Favourite walk

Park above Start Point lighthouse and walk towards it, enjoying dramatic views to your left across Beesands, Hallsands, Slapton and over to Kingswear. At the lighthouse, take the coastal path towards Mattiscombe, Lannacombe and Prawle Point to take in eight miles of stunning coastline with hidden beaches, seals and – if you’re very lucky – porpoises. Keen ramblers can carry on towards East Portlemouth, another 10 miles, with dramatic coastline, wildflowers and a shipwreck.
southwestcoastpath.com. GF

Great pint

Opposite the Anchorstone Cafe is the Ferry Boat Inn, a wonderfully eclectic pub with a beautiful view and a fabulous landlord, Ray. It has a great atmosphere which, on a Sunday, turns into an impromptu jamming session, with guitarists, vocalists and whoever is in the pub with a bit of talent. Long Sunday lunches, homemade pies and pâtés, and a pub quiz with scoring on “a purely whimsical basis”.
01803 722368. Arrive by foot or ferry from Dartmouth or Greenway. GF

Blue-flag beach

Blackpool Sands is a beautiful beach privately owned by the Newman family. Its blue-flag status and award-laden Venus Cafe (open for breakfast and lunch) make for a perfect day out. It also has ample parking (£6 a day) and watersports: you can hire bodyboards, windsurfers and kayaks as well as deckchairs and windbreaks.
01803 771800, blackpoolsands.co.uk. 01803 712648, venuscompany.co.uk. GF

Local culture

This summer, the Dartmouth Inn Theatre Company’s production of Macbeth is on an unrivalled stage: alfresco, opposite Dartmouth Castle, overlooking the river Dart and out to sea (I play Lady Macbeth!). Bring a blanket, a picnic and be enthralled in this most beautiful of settings.
3-7 August. www.theinntheatrecompany.co.uk. Tickets from 01803 834224, discoverdartmouth.com. GF

Greenway House was the holiday home of Agatha Christie and her family. Now owned by the National Trust, it is a relaxed, atmospheric house containing many of the family’s collections. Outside you can explore the woodland garden, with its restored vinery and rare plantings, stretching down the hill towards the Dart estuary.
01803 842382, nationaltrust.org.uk/greenway. SJ

Eat, drink, sleep and explore at Dartington Hall near Totnes, south Devon, a 1,000-acre estate bought in the 1920s by Leonard Elmhirst and his wife, the American heiress Dorothy Whitney Elmhirst. They used it as an experiment in rural reconstruction, restoring the splendid but derelict medieval hall and courtyard, and created the wonderful gardens. Music, dance, theatre . . . it all happens here.
01803 847147, dartingtonhall.com. SJ

The novelist happens upon a moving memorial service in a Tuscan village for five British airmen shot down there in 1942

Even with a local map, it isn’t easy to find the tiny village of Bratto. But here in this small corner of Lunigiana, in the northern tip of Tuscany, lies a remarkable story. We heard it by chance when our friend Caterina Rapetti, the local councillor for arts and tourism, invited us to a memorial service.

“You must come,” Caterina had insisted. “There will be a service in the graveyard, and you will be the British representatives.” Her complicated instructions on the quickest way to Bratto were delivered in rapid Italian, but the question of why we were to represent Britain was somehow lost.

Which was how we found ourselves, one hot August morning, winding up the blue-green mountain road with its hairpin bends. Sunlight dappled our windscreen, and in the distance we heard the faint, flat sound of goat bells.

The hills of Lunigiana rise steeply between the valleys of two rivers, the Magra and the Verde, creating an area of outstanding natural beauty. But the agricultural land in this part of Italy is poor, so people began emigrating to Britain in the 19th century. By the end of the second world war, several hundred people had left Bratto for Clerkenwell, in central London. There they formed a community, “Little Italy”. Their lives were filled with hardship, and homesickness never left them. But after the war, they began making visits home with their children.

This tradition continues today. In the winter, there are fewer than 10 people living in Bratto. Then, with the first stirrings of summer, the second and third generations of inhabitants return like migrating birds. They repair family homes and cram balconies with geraniums. It is during these summer months that old stories are given an airing. Stories about the resistance, and how Laura Seghettini, a lone woman partisan in Lunigiana, dynamited a German train loaded with ammunition.

On the morning we arrived, the bell was tolling in the church. The little graveyard was packed and the priest had begun the blessing. We watched as the beautiful Laura, now 90 years old, bowed her head. Then Caterina spoke, her voice carrying across the valley. A child began to cry, as the story of why we had been asked here unfolded.

One dark night in November 1942, an RAF plane with a mission to bomb a German-owned factory was shot down. The villagers of Bratto heard the explosion but it wasn’t until the following morning that the remains of the plane and the five young British airmen were found, scattered across the hillside. Deeply distressed, the villagers gathered up the bodies and buried them in the cemetery. The Germans arrived and, satisfied no one had survived, left. Some time later a local sculptor carved a memorial cross. On it was a perfect, child’s impression of a plane. When the war ended, the bodies were moved to a military cemetery in Genoa, and the cross disappeared. It remained lost until it was found recently in a nearby shed.

Such is their abiding affection for these unknown men who lost their lives on Italian soil that, every year, the people of Bratto hold a mass for them. In the local museum of the resistance, there is a photograph of the pilot.

“We shall never forget,” one woman said, at the festa held in her house. “Even if the British no longer think of them, we will always remember.”

Caterina was happy. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “At least there were people from their country here today.”

An old man was waiting patiently to talk to me: “When I was digging in the fields, I found a foot in a boot. I buried it there. It seemed the right thing to do.” We stood in silent acknowledgement of this flashback from long ago, as from across the valley there came again the faint and lovely echo of goat bells.

Getting there

Ryanair flies to Pisa (90 minutes by car from Bratto) from several UK airports, from £20 one way. Agriturismo Giunasco, a few miles from Pontremoli (+39 0187 427019) has doubles from €90 B&B. Or Il Giardino della Luna (+39 0187 428099), further south, has doubles from €120 B&B.
Roma Tearne’s fourth novel is The Swimmer (Harper Press, £14.99)

New Yorkers no longer think Harlem a no-go zone, so tourists shouldn’t miss its live jazz, great architecture and soul food

“Are you crazy? Harlem?” This was once the only response to news that someone was planning a trip to uptown Manhattan. Harlem, after all, used to be the embodiment of American urban decay. But public funding and private initiative, as well as ever-more-unaffordable real estate downtown, have helped jump-start a Harlem renaissance – one that is, moreover, doing more than simply surviving the economic downturn. Gentrification has been a mixed blessing for locals, less than half of whom are now African American, but a boon for tourists looking for the New York experience on a smaller scale. Harlem is still a place where strangers greet each other on the street, where families share stoops on summer evenings, where B&Bs outnumber hotels. And for the worriers, Harlem is safer than it has been in half a century, though it’s still advisable to stay out of the parks at night, to keep an eye on your wallet in crowds, and to avoid areas that don’t feel safe.

Uptown sightseeing

Change has always been Harlem’s watchword, from its start as a Dutch village to the time, at the beginning of the 20th century, when it was the mecca of the new generation of black artists and politicians who came here in the years before the first world war and called themselves the New Negroes, to the dark days of the 70s and 80s, when taxis refused to take passengers uptown. Pricey tours offered by companies such as Harlem Heritage Tours and Big Onion Walking Tours (+1 212 439 1090) cover it all, but it’s more fun to make like a New Yorker and visit the historic homes and gardens of Hamilton Heights and Sugar Hill during an event organised by local homeowners (6 June; +1 212 281 4442). Or glimpse the inside of some of the magnificent residences surrounding Marcus Garvey Park in an event hosted by the neighbourhood’s Community Improvement Association (13 June; +1 212 369 4241).

A good book for visitors who want to take things at their own pace is Touring Historic Harlem: Four Walks in Northern Manhattan (New York Landmarks Conservancy). This and many other guides are available at the Hue-Man Bookstore (2319 Frederick Douglass Blvd, +1 212 665 7400).

Get an overview by climbing the steps to the summit of Marcus Garvey Park. From the top, all Harlem’s neighbourhoods are on display in what amounts to an introductory course on the history of New York architecture, made possible by decades of benign neglect. The elegant brownstone blocks to the south and west, once Jewish – Richard Rodgers, Lorenz Hart and Oscar Hammerstein all lived there – are now dominated by immigrants from west Africa. The tenement neighbourhoods to the east, once Italian, are now “Nuyorican” (New York Puerto Rican). To the north, the public housing projects that went up in the 50s and 60s, swallowing up the site of the prohibition-era Cotton Club and the Polo Grounds baseball stadium, can’t quite obscure the fancy neighbourhoods of Sugar Hill and Hamilton Heights. You may even catch a glimpse of the oldest house on the island, the Morris-Jumel Mansion, George Washington’s headquarters during the early days of the American Revolution (65 Jumel Terrace, +1 212 923 8008).

Live music

From preachers to hip-hoppers, Harlem musicians have been setting the pace for more than a century. It’s still showtime at the Apollo Theatre (253 West 125th Street, +1 212 531 5305), an old vaudeville house that has, since 1934, given over Wednesday nights to amateurs looking for their big break – among them Ella Fitzgerald and James Brown. Afterwards, drop by Minton’s (206-210 West 118th Street, +1 212 864 8346), where bebop was developed in the 40s. Other survivors are the Lenox Lounge (288 Lenox Avenue, +1 212 427 0253) – the booth on the left as you enter used to be reserved each week for Billie Holiday – and St Nick’s Pub (773 St Nicholas Ave, +1 212 283 9728). For a more intimate Harlem jazz experience, catch a jam session at the Col. Charles Young American Legion Post (248 West 132nd St, +1 212 283 9701), but bear in mind that if you play an instrument, you will be asked to perform. The spirit of the Harlem Renaissance – the African-American intellectual movement of the 20s and 30s – is alive at the Sunday salon hosted by Marjorie Eliot at 555 Edgecombe Ave, a building that was once home to legends including Lena Horne and Paul Robeson (+1 212 781 6595). Finally there is the Jazz Mobile, a jazz-club stage mounted on a flatbed truck that comes to Marcus Garvey Park on Friday evenings in summer (+1 212 866 3616).

Harlem is synonymous with jazz, but don’t miss the Afro-Cuban sounds of Bobby Sanabria’s big band on Wednesday nights at FB Lounge (172 East 106th Street, +1 212 348 3929).

Visitors searching for gospel music are welcomed in Harlem’s churches on Sunday mornings. At the famed Abyssinian Baptist Church (132 Odell Clark Place, +1 212 862 7474), tourists have their own entrance. Not surprisingly, the music is more authentic at Mount Moriah Baptist Church (2050 Fifth Ave, +1 212 289 9488). Call for service times and dress appropriately (no T-shirts or shorts).

Shopping

The newly opened chain stores along 125th Street don’t offer anything you can’t find downtown. The real action is with the street vendors, who sell everything from the latest street fashion and urban music to self-published, black-oriented books. The best place in the city for African sculpture and textiles is the Malcolm Shabazz Market (52 West 116th St, +1 212 987 8131), while dozens of African hair-braiding salons line 125th and 116th streets. Fashion-conscious boys should head for Goliath (175 East 105th Street, +1 212 360 7683), which has streetwear by Rosemary Frazier. Narrow-brimmed porkpie hats are ubiquitous this year, but hand-made headwear that will outlast the fad can be found at Hats by Bunn (2283 Adam Clayton Powell Blvd, +1 212 694 3590). For antiques, Michael Henry Adams, the dean of Harlem style, recommends two shops, both on West 145th Street between Seventh and Eighth avenues: Earl’s (+1 212 281 6963) and Akbar (+1 212 283 2190).

Culture

Harlem nurtured talents such as artists Romare Bearden and Jacob Lawrence, and the Studio Museum in Harlem (144 West 125th St, +1 212 864 4500) makes sure art is still thriving. In July, visitors can see “Expanding the Walls”, an exhibition of images by disadvantaged black and Latino teenagers. If you go to the Museo Del Barrio (1230 Fifth Avenue, +1 212 831 7272) to catch an exhibit of the “guerilla artist” Rafael Ferrer (8 June–22 August), don’t miss the nearby Raíces Museum of Latin Music (1 East 104th Street, +1 212 427 2244).

Music and music history can both be found at the National Jazz Museum (104 East 126th Street, +1 212 348 8300) and at the Hip Hop Cultural Centre (2309 Frederick Douglass Boulevard at West 124th Street, +1 212 234 7171), which will hold its annual rap-a-thon – “27 continuous hours of rap without any profanity” – on 26-27 June.

The most cutting-edge art is to be seen at Triple Candie Gallery (500 West 148th Street, +1 212 368 3333), notorious for shows that refused to reveal the artists’ identities.

Soul food and beyond

Soul food was invented on southern slave plantations, but it was in the cities of the north that it became a cuisine. Skip the touristy Sylvia’s and head for Charles’ Country Pan Fried Chicken (2839 Frederick Douglass Blvd, +1 212 281 1800) or A Taste of Seafood (59E, 125th Street, +1 212 831 5584). For dessert, drop by Lee Lee’s Baked Goods (283 West 118th St, +1 917 493 6633), which boasts “rugelach [tiny Jewish pastries] by a brother”. East of Fifth Avenue you can find the best Mexican food in the city. The trick here is bringing cash, and low expectations when it comes to decor, though Mexican beers like Modelo Especial and Negra Modelo help it go down easily. The tacos at El Aguila (137 East 116th St, +1 212 410 2450) and the chicken sandwich known as torta milanesa at Mi Mexico Lindo Panaderia (2267 Second Ave, +1 212 996 5223) make a perfect light lunch. For the best African food follow the Ivoirean cab drivers to Treichville (339 East 118th St, +1 212 369 7873) or join the Senegalese street vendors at Sokobolie (2529 Eighth Ave, +1 212 491 3969). Diners at the more elegant Baobab (120 West 116th St, +1 212 864 4700) look forward to the vanilla-pineapple couscous desert known as thiakry.

Sleeping

Most visitors stay in midtown, but why not stay uptown and call yourself a Harlemite? The charmless rooms and basic service at the Harlem YMCA (180 West 135th Street, +1 212 912 2100) were good enough for jazz poet Langston Hughes, but most tourists will want to stay in one of the cosy B&Bs, many of which are located in 19th-century houses lacking lifts and, in some cases, private bathrooms.

Try the Sugar Hill Harlem Inn (460 West 141st St, +1 212 234 5432), or 102 Brownstone (102 West 118th Street, +1 212 662 4223). As always, remember that things can be casual uptown, so confirm and reconfirm: the Harlem L-Hostel (1961 Adam Clayton Powell Blvd, +1 212 222 3103) was recently closed – only temporarily, it is set to open again this year – by the city for lacking proper permits. Improvisation may be one of the hallmarks of Harlem style, but some things are better worked out in advance.

More comfortable than couchsurfing, but cheaper than a regulated B&B, Bed&Fed is a new scheme offering rooms in houses across the UK and Ireland

British reserve being what it is, the prospect of going on holiday and finding yourself eating dinner with your hosts may not be everyone’s cup of tea. But a new accommodation scheme, Bed&Fed, is hoping Brits will emerge from their cocoons and transform into social butterflies on holiday.

Positioning itself between traditional B&Bs and couchsurfing – which involves members giving each other free accommodation – Bed&Fed offers a room to guests staying in one of its network of houses across the UK and Ireland, from £30 per person per night, including not only continental breakfast but also a “simple supper” eaten with the host family. The scheme’s founder, Annabella Forbes, describes it as a “home from home”, emphasising its informality compared with B&Bs, where guests would usually expect to have little interaction with the owner outside arrival, departure and breakfast.

She says the idea is designed to appeal to someone who is “easy-going and wants to save money, and at the same time stay somewhere pleasant and with more character than a cheap hotel or over-priced B&B”, and to people who travel for business or who are staying in an area for an event.

She describes Bed&Fed as “one up from couchsurfing … you should expect to be treated like a family friend in terms of comfort and good food”. Couchsurfing.org may be free but guests can find themselves literally sleeping on the sofa.

Given that I’m not immune to attacks of British reserve, it was with some trepidation, shared by my partner, that I headed to the School House in the village of Monxton in Hampshire, near Andover. A lovely 18th-century thatched cottage, its recent history includes being used as a rehearsal room by 60s band The Troggs of Wild Thing fame. The decor is best described as relaxed country chic, and it was clear that our hosts, Nick and Sarah, who moved in just before Christmas last year, had gone to an effort with our comfortable homely room. It also had a view into a neighbour’s field, where two llamas, Pirate and Choc-Chip, were idling away the hours, and a good-sized private bathroom.

On arrival, we were invited for a cup of tea and chocolate biscuits in the large garden, where we were introduced to Teasel, Nick and Sarah’s excitable cocker spaniel. They also have a cat named Maisy, and allow guests to bring their own – well-behaved – dog for a £5 supplement.

As we relaxed and chatted, the benefits of Bed&Fed became apparent. There was no feeling of being confined to our bedroom to watch a portable television – the common B&B experience. Instead we had the chance to get to know our hosts properly, making Forbes’ description of feeling part of the family ring true.

The “simple supper” was a very tasty cottage pie followed by apple crumble and custard (Bed&Fed guests are asked to “bring your own” if you want to drink alcohol). Conversation flowed so readily over dinner that there was no sense of panic when the often-divisive subject of politics came up, but it was here that a potential danger of Bed&Fed presented itself. The fact that I didn’t share Nick and Sarah’s political views didn’t matter to me, but it’s easy to imagine others feeling trapped if they disagreed with their hosts about something – that “mouthy black-cab driver” experience. Maybe this is the reason Forbes suggests Bed&Fed is for the “easy-going”.

There are around 200 hosts currently in the scheme dotted around the country, including two in London who also charge £35 (although one requires a minimum stay of five nights). Forbes says it has attracted existing B&B owners as well as people looking to make a bit of cash out of a spare room, which can be made available as often (or seldom) as they like. Properties are not quality assessed before being admitted to the Bed&Fed scheme, but visitors can post reviews on the website. Cooked breakfasts aren’t offered: we were offered hot drinks, juice and a choice of cereal or toast, although Sarah was happy to provide both when my partner asked.

Obviously not all properties share all the qualities of the School House: great hospitality and cooking, friendly family pets, and a wonderful location in a nice village, with Stonehenge, Avebury, Hungerford, Marlborough and Salisbury all a short drive away. But the “home from home” experience and purse-friendly cost are a winning combination. Overcoming your British reserve is a small price to pay.
• bedandfed.co.uk. From £30pp per night (no single supplements apply). The School House, Monxton, Hampshire (01264 710375) charges £39pp per night.